


Please Press Pound

by Eerily



Series: Oneshots [4]
Category: South Park
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 01:53:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14802101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eerily/pseuds/Eerily
Summary: Kenny wanted to make things easier, but he only made them worse. -Both Style and a K2, though K2 is the main pairing.





	Please Press Pound

**Author's Note:**

> Another old oneshost that still has some charm despite being four years old now.

"Kyle, it's the same thing every damn week with you," Stan complained while pinching the bridge of his nose. Obviously, he wasn't too happy. Then again, he never really seemed to be anymore.

"What's that supposed to mean? You're always the one starting these things," Kyle snapped back. There was a raging fire in his eyes. It was one of hate, which almost made Kenny cringe. It was a far cry from the sweet, half lidded looks of love Kyle usually got when he looked at Stan.

Stan rolled his eyes out the window.

"Finally getting sick of each other?" Cartman uttered from the front passenger seat.

"Shut your mouth fatass. This doesn't concern you."

Kenny stayed quiet, as he usually did. There was a rare occasion he'd toss in his two cents, but the older they grew, the less frequent that seemed to be.

He wanted to tell Kyle and Stan to stop fighting. He wanted to say that he knew how much they loved each other, and they should put their relationship above their recent petty fights. Instead, he only frowned and adjusted his rear view mirror.

He could see a pretty redhead in the reflection. His heart ached seeing the boy wipe at his eyes. He always hurt when Kyle did, and, recently, it had been more often than not. He wished there was something... _anything_  he could do to make life easier for him.

"Kenny! Look out!" Stan shouted from the back seat. Kenny slammed hard on the brakes.

With a screech, his old blue junker came to a shaky stop. A dog stared in bewilderment at the car that nearly plowed it over, then took off into the brush beside the road.

With a wide eyed glance, he could still see Kyle in the reflection of his mirror. He had a fist balled up against his chest, and his eyes were wide with fright.

Kenny wanted to make things easier, but he only made them worse.

"Damn, you're gonna kill us one day," Cartman blurted. Ignoring the comment, Kenny pressed back down against the gas peddle.

The redhead behind him was fiddling with the hem of his green hoodie. Kenny didn't notice. He was too busy trying to be a more responsible driver, considering his precious cargo.

Soon, they dropped Cartman off, leaving Kenny alone with his feuding friends. He did his best to ignore them, and he did it well. At least until he pulled into their apartment building.

Kenny heard Stan's door slam, but not Kyle's.

Rather than storm after his fuming lover, Kyle just sat there quietly.

"Sorry things have been weird lately," Kyle uttered. "I mean... with all the fighting... things have been hard for us lately."

Kenny didn't say anything. He didn't know what he could possibly say.

Kyle looked awkwardly about the car's interior, obviously not ready to get out. He continued playing with the hem of his jacket. That time, Kenny noticed.

"It's okay," the driver finally replied. His blue eyes flicked across the mirror, at the image of who was inside it. "It's just a rut, you guys will pull out of it. You always do."

Kyle looked down at his hands. The unwavering look of determination he usually wore had long since been wiped away.

He shook his head.

"I don't know, Ken..."

Kenny looked away from the mirror. Kyle was the only one who still called him that.  _Ken_. It didn't sound quite right coming from anyone else.

"You know Stan's crazy about you," he uttered in response. He reached into his coat pocket to fish out some cigarettes. "Always has been, always will be."

A small smile unfolded on Kyle's face.

"Quite the optimist, aren't you?"

"Not really," Kenny admitted as smoke rolled from his mouth. "I just say anything I can to get you to smile."

Said smile only grew wider.

"Well... thanks for the ride..."

Wordlessly, Kenny watched Kyle open the back door and slip off of cracked leather seating. He idled in the driveway, running his tattooed fingers over his denim covered knee until Kyle made his way inside. Once his friend was safe, Kenny pulled out of the drive.

**…**

"I'm pretty sure that's a bad idea."

"Shut up, McCormick, it's fine."

When Craig tipped back his head, the glass bottom of a coke tipped back, too. Kenny only chuckled to himself.

"You're on the very urge of being an alcoholic, ain't ya?" he muttered while watching Craig guzzle down more rum then a stomach should handle.

"No," Craig deadpanned once he lowered his bottle. "I'm on the very urge of escape."

Kenny tilted his head in thought. He didn't want to turn out like Craig did. The guy was nice enough, but the only thing he ever wanted to do was drink and get high. Even  _Kenny_  needed to step out of the house for some fresh air every now and again. Still, he could see the lure in drowning away all his troubles.

He looked down into his own glass. The liquid was thick like water and pure like paint thinner. The dark fluid sloshed around in his plastic cup until he decided maybe Craig had the right idea after all. With a huff, he chugged down his cup.

"Thought you were gonna sip it," Craig muttered.

"Changed my mind."

He didn't like the way Craig eyed him. The guy had unreadable eyes.

"Does this have to do with Kyle?"

Kenny nearly choked on his rum.

"What? Why the hell would you think that?" he snapped defensively.

"If you're drowning yourself it usually has to do with him."

Craig knew him a little too well.

Kenny shook his head, sighing. He could already feel himself getting woozy. He drank just enough to make the room spin, but not enough to leave chunks of his lunch is his shoes.

"He's just having issues with his boyfriend, you know."

"Then why are you upset?" Craig butted in. "That's a good thing. If Stan fucks everything up you'll have a shot."

"It's not like that."

Craig's legs were hanging off the front of his crumb covered recliner. He began to kick them.

"You can't tell me that you don't want them to break up. At least just a little."

"He loves Stan, and as long as Kyle's happy is all that matters."

"Okay, but is he?"

"What?"

"Is he happy?"

Kenny stopped to think about it.

Kyle's face was never relaxed like it used to be. Kenny could still remember that hateful look he snatched a glance at in his mirror. Still, after a long moment of contemplation, he gave in to uneasy silence.

Craig smiled to himself. It was a big, shit eating grin that showed just how satisfied he was with their conclusion. Kenny rolled his eyes.

"Give me a minute," he uttered, pushing up off the couch. "I gotta piss."

Craig waved his hand dismissively while Kenny retreated to the hall. He stumbled into the bathroom, where he did indeed piss. He slinked back out towards the living room, but didn't make it far before his phone started ringing in his pocket. Lazily, he pulled it out expecting to see his sister's name flashing across the screen. Instead, he was met with one that made him do a double take.

"Um... hello?" He uttered nervously into his cellphone.

"Hey Ken... do you think I'd be okay if I like... came to your place or something? Just for tonight..."

Kenny leaned back against the wall, his eyebrows pinching together in confusion.

"I mean... me and Stan got into it pretty bad and... I don't want to go to my parents' house."

Maybe it was wrong to feel a little excited, but Kenny's heart surged up into his throat.

"Yeah- yeah... do you need me to like, pick you up, or..."

"No, no.. um... I guess I'll see you at the door."

"Yeah, see ya."

His cellphone went quiet.

He stared blankly at the thing in shock before realizing that he was in fact not at home.

"Shit," he blurted before running out of the hallway and into Craig's living room.

"I gotta go."

He didn't even stop to see Craig's dumbfounded expression. Kyle needed him. For the first time since they were kids Kyle was reaching out for help, and no matter how quick the street under his intoxicated feet span he was going to be there. Halfway down the road, he realized he was barefoot and stumbling. He shook his head at himself, but didn't turn back around.

The walk from Craig's apartment to Kenny's wasn't a long one, but it felt like it was taking forever. It didn't help much how he'd trip over his own two feet, or how he'd have to occasionally lean against a wall to keep himself upright.

Eventually, he spotted his cookie-cut rental out amongst his neighbors' houses. The only thing setting it apart was the junk he had sitting around in the yard.

The poor bastard luckily had his keys clipped to his pant loop, or else they would have been left behind with his shoes. Reaching for them in his drunken stupor, he stepped up onto his porch.

To Kenny's surprise, Kyle was already there, sitting on the old porch swing. He was swaying back and forth in the faint lighting cast by the streetlamps.

Kenny rubbed his eyes, as if to be sure he wasn't seeing things.

"You got here fast," he mumbled, slurring his words a little more than he liked.

Kyle stopped swinging.

He rubbed the fabric covering his knees with shaking hands. The poor thing was in nothing but his pajamas, hunched over and trembling in the cool night air.

"I... I've been here for a while," Kyle admitted. Walking a little closer, Kenny noticed how puffy and red Kyle's green eyes had gotten.

"But you just called me."

Kyle sniffled before trying to rub the cold out of his red nose.

"I called from here... I... I was knocking on the door, but you didn't answer, so I tried to call to wake you up. Sorry I bothered you."

Kenny lifted his hand in dismissal, though it didn't completely make it before falling limp again in his stupor. Luckily, Kyle called before he managed to get shit-faced.

"Don't worry about it," Kenny added.

He had just enough mind to slip off his parka and wrap Kyle up in it. The poor old thing was tattered and trashy looking. It didn't deserve the honor of keeping Kyle warm on a cold night, but it was all Kenny had to offer.

"Lets get you inside. I can, um, light the wood heater and make some tea or something gay like that."

Kyle stood from the creaking porch swing. There was a gentle smile on his face, though Kenny couldn't tell if it was because he was happy or just trying not to laugh at Kenny's occasionally slurred words.

"Please."

It took a moment as he fiddled with his keys.

"Sorry, the place is still kinda trashy," Kenny apologized in advance before they could step inside. He felt a weight pushing down on his stomach as Kyle peeked around the living room.

When Kenny thought of Kyle, he envisioned clean kitchens stocked to the brim with treats, warm summer days, and big cushy beds.

Kenny slept on a futon mattress.

Despite this, Kyle only shook his head as he navigated around piles of dirty clothes to get to the couch.

"It's okay," he tried to assure, but there was nothing reassuring about the small, trembling cracks in his voice.

"Okay, um... I'll go start the stove up."

Kyle watched Kenny from his spot on the couch. He opened the grated iron door before tossing in a couple little logs. It was silly seeing him use such an old thing, but Kenny insisted it saved him money on gas bills.

A flame flicked from the lighted wood, casting a comforting orange glow through the room.

Kenny looked back at his company. His face showed a concern that wasn't usual before he stood up and rubbed his hands together.

"So... what all went on with Stan?..."

With a sigh, Kyle put his face in his hands.

"We started fighting... and, I guess we just decided that..." he stopped, green eyes looking down between his fingers. "We just shouldn't be together anymore."

"What?" Kenny sputtered in disbelief. "You guys have been together since like- freshman year or some shit."

"Yeah, well... I guess some things were just more important to him than I was..."

Every word Kyle spoke sounded so pitiful and small. Trembling and broken. His shoulders began to shake.

"Hey... don't cry, Ky..." Kenny managed in a quiet whisper as he took a seat beside his friend. His hand softly brushed the other's shoulder.

Kyle managed to steady his breath, but it didn't keep his cheeks from getting wet. The tears flowed thick and steady. His lip trembled against his will. He didn't want to cry, but a chunk of his heart was torn away and gaping.

"I'm trying not to," he admitted, letting out a small, nervous laugh through his tears. "I just... what the fuck am I supposed to do now? The apartment, our car, everything  _everything_ is in his name.

"I built my whole life around him, what do I even do?"

Kenny's gaze was unsteady when it soaked in the sight of Kyles face. He could only see the other's profile. Freckled cheeks were tear-streaked and blotched red. His eyes were half lidded and downcast with worry. Orange, flickering light caught in the magnificence of his curls.

He tightened Kenny's parka around his shoulders, hiding his chin under brown fur.

"Don't worry... I know my place is gross and smells like piss but push comes to shove my house is your house."

Kyle's eyes met with Kenny's for a moment. He looked shocked by Kenny's kindness, but his shock gave way to a soft, grateful smile that made Kenny's heart flare up.

How Stan ever even thought of letting him go, Kenny couldn't fathom.

Awkwardly, he cleared his throat.

"I'm gonna um... tea," he sputtered.

Kenny tried to stand, but a hand took a tender hold of his arm.

"Stay with me," came a quiet plea he just couldn't bring himself to ignore.

"Okay."

Kyle took to ringing his hands. There was an anxiousness there Kenny wasn't accustomed to seeing from Kyle. He was always the steady one, even when the waters where treacherous. He assumed even the strongest people got scared sometimes, and it was obvious from the lost look in his friend's eyes that he was truly terrified.

He'd never been without Stan before.

"If you don't mind me asking..." Kenny began cautiously. "Why have you guys been fighting so much lately?"

Kyle shook his head with a loud sigh.

"It doesn't even matter anymore," came an unnerved whimper, "but... his drinking just got really out of hand since his dad died... he's not even the same person anymore I just- I can't..."

Again, he covered his mouth to hide a sob.

"You can cry if you really need to," Kenny muttered. Timidly, he placed a comforting arm around Kyle's shoulders. Without hesitation, the redhead fell against his friend's side.

"I don't need to cry."

"You sure? That looks like a tear right there," Kenny uttered, pressing his finger on Kyle's cheek.

"Well it's not."

"Then what is it?"

"Its my man juice, cause I'm a  _man_."

For a moment, Kenny looked at his friend in bewilderment. Then, he burst into hysterical laughter.

"You're so much of a man you  _leak man juice_?"

Kyle threw his hands over his mouth again, but not to hold back misery. Instead, he let bubbly laughter out through his fingers.

"What is even the purpose of man juice?"

"It makes you super strong and buff."

"So what do you like... drink it?" Kenny questioned. "If I drink your man juice I'll get super manly?"

"That is literally the most gay thing that has ever been said."

Kenny actually felt his face get red, but Kyle was laughing so hard he couldn't bare not to laugh along with him.

"You're the one who's gay," he uttered as the room slowly filled once again with silent contemplation.

"You're the one who wants to drink my man juice."

"I bet it'd be good as fuck."

That one earned him a good punch to the arm, though neither moved from the other's side. By that time, they were pressed up against each other. Their shoulders meshed with one arm still around Kyle. It felt okay, though. Maybe even a little more than okay, which made Kyle gulp and Kenny sigh.

"Thanks... for letting me crash here on such short notice."

"Hey, it's what friends are for."

Kyle let his head fall onto Kenny's shoulder. It was good to know there was at least one person who'd always be there, even when Stan of all people wouldn't be. Then again, it was always that way with Ken.

"Stan's a dumbass, you know."

"Huh?"

The alcohol was still flowing through him. It left his mind clouded, and the familiar smell of Kyle's hair wasn't helping his judgment much. He was just drunk enough.

"Anybody who gets a chance with you should consider themselves damn lucky. He's an idiot for wanting to let go of that."

Kyle looked at the hand on his shoulder.

It was rough and warn, but gentle, sincere.

"You really think so?"

With his eyes partially closed, Kenny nodded.

"You're so smart, and sweet, and... fuck, really good looking."

"Am not."

"Are too, just look at that cute nose, and those curls."

Kenny brushed one of said curls, making it bounce. Kyle tried hard not to let just how flattered he was show. He got complimented on a lot of things; his smarts, his mentality, his caring nature, and sometimes even his eyes. Being told someone was actually attracted to his bulky snout and unmanageable mane was different, to say the least.

"You're drunk," he said with a little grin.

"No, just a little tipsy," Kenny uttered. "I only got a few gulps 'fore you called. Either way, drunk or sober, I always thought you were cute."

"Well... thanks, Ken."

Kenny nodded, a dumb smile finding it's way onto his sobering face.

"I've had my fair share of breakups. I know it hurts really bad now, but I promise it gets easier."

Kyle let air out through his nose, almost as if he was deflating. Somehow, he managed to slide into Kenny's lap. He was tired and drained. Kenny's fingers got tangled up in the curls he seemed so smitten with. Kyle didn't object. It felt nice. In fact, it was the only thing that felt nice in that moment. Kenny's touches were so tender, and they made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

He liked it.

"How sober are you?" Kyle asked.

Kenny shrugged. "The room's not spinning and my shoes are dry, so pretty damn sober, I guess."

Kyle lifted himself up. He managed to seat himself partially on Kenny's spread legs. Thoughts of Stan seemed to become blurred smudges in his mind when he felt those gentle hands, when he looked into those blue eyes. There was something he saw in Kenny that he never did in his ex. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it made his core heat up.

Ken smiled. It was cockeyed and confused, but Kyle fell in love none the less.

Their lips touched.

It wasn't clear who made the move. They both found themselves so consumed in the fire thriving in their guts that it didn't matter.

Kenny's hands played with spirals of red hair, his cracked lips pressed firm against soft, plump ones. His heart leaped up into his throat when it caught up with his head. He broke away, though only for a moment to take in a thick, shaky breath. Their bodies melded together perfectly when they fell back against the cushions of the couch, Kenny straddling the other.

His achy hands slid up Kyle's sides, soaking up the feeling of every curve, bump, and subtle dip. With a little whine, Kyle nipped at Kenny's bottom lip.

It was good. It was right.

Gasping, their mouths meshed together again, but only until crooked teeth found tender, pale skin.

Kenny kissed and sucked at the nape of Kyle's neck. He was so overcome by the explosion in his chest he didn't even think to stop.

Kyle was under him.

He was whimpering, gasping, and fucking grinding up against Kenny's crotch.

For the first time he felt he could actually do something to make things better. He could scoop Kyle up and take away all the pain Stan left in him. He could kiss him and touch him. He could whisper things he only dreamed of whispering and make Kyle feel good.

He could make him feel so good.

Small hands gripped desperately at Kenny's shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his T-shirt as a much larger pair worked to pull down a certain pair of pajama pants. Much to Ken's pleasant surprise, Kyle was already hard.

"You want to-"

Kyle nodded hard, his eyes squeezed tightly closed.

"Yeah, please."

When his hand slipped down into the warmth of Kyle's briefs, he shivered more than Kyle did. He just felt it with his fingers, eyes locked onto the soft face he was making twist with faint pleasure.

Carefully, he nudged Kyle's legs apart with his knee before sinking his hips down between a creamy pair of thighs.

"Mm, shit," Kyle muttered. He bucked up, grinding himself against the growing bulge in Kenny's pants. Still, his eyes remained clamped shut.

"Hey," a low voice whispered into Kyle's ear, "look at me."

Hesitantly, apple green eyes cracked open.

Kenny gazed into them, his fingers coming up to stroke a reddened cheek.

"You okay with this?"

Kyle had the very faint taste of alcohol on his tongue. His eyes were watery, and his jaw quivered. He couldn't bring himself to speak, so he only nodded.

Despite Kyle's approval, Kenny kept a careful watch on his face while he helped him out of his pants. Kyle's breath quickened while he squirmed at the cold air.

Ken took a lingering eyeful.

"You're so gorgeous," he whispered gruffly, his voice growing hitched.

Kyle choked out a small, muffled cry when he felt Kenny's weight shift. A slicked pair of fingers rubbed between his spread legs.

"K-  _mm_ \- Kenny."

The name felt weird falling out of his mouth like that. Stan was the only person who'd ever touched him before, but it was never quite so passionate. There was never such a tight knot coiled in the pit of his stomach. It made so much friction, just enough to banish Stan from his mind. Just enough to set his nerves aflame and make him pant with need.

Kenny sank two fingers inside. His chest heaved and breathed quickened at the pleasured cry that poured out of those lovely lips. They were the same lips that had just been pressing against his own. The same lips he shared ice-cream cones with when they were kids. They were the same lips that assured him of how many amazing things he could create despite the cuts on his hands and the scars on his soul.

"Good?" Kenny asked with a waver in his voice.

Again, Kyle nodded.

"I can make it even better, if you want me to."

"P-please."

Kenny hurriedly scrambled for a condom. Back between the other's bare legs, he unzipped his jeans. Just hearing the zipper left Kyle trembling. He lifted up, panting impatiently while he watched Kenny roll the rubber over his hard length.

It was much bigger than he expected, but he wasn't fazed. Oddly enough, he was only excited.

"K- _Kenny_ ," he whined in need.

"God that's hot," Ken muttered through gritted teeth.

Kyle was so overtaken by the need that grew inside. He hadn't expected to find himself this way, but Kenny was so sweet and generous. Being so close to him just felt  _right_ , and he wanted to get as much of that closeness as he could.

His mouth gaped open, and his back arched up off the dirty cushions when a white hot pleasure sank slowly inside. Kenny was gripping Kyle's hips so hard that his thick fingers burrowed into delicate, jutting bone. He was huffing, spitting quiet curses and sweet nothings.

Everything inside Kyle was on fire. His aching heart, his frayed nerves, the very tips of his fingers that raked through long blond hair.

He let out the most desperate, pitiful sounds he'd ever heard come out of his own mouth.

"I'm gonna move," Kenny warned breathlessly.

Kyle tried to steady himself, but his lungs, along with the rest of his body, rocked with each pump of Kenny's hips. His bottom half lifted up as Kenny did, and his tongue flicked out as Kenny's did. They meshed. They rolled, cried, whimpered, and gasped as careful pumping transformed into frenzied thrusts.

Kyle felt even better than Kenny imagined he could.

He knew just when to squeeze.

Kenny trembled and shook.

Kyle's heart quickened, beating dangerously fast. Kenny's thick fingers gripped him in foreign places that were once only reserved for Stan. His tongue lapped at Kyle's neck in ways only Stan had. He pressed in deep, making Kyle's body jerk in ways he'd only ever let Stan.

"F-fuck, ah," Kenny breathed thickly in his ear, slamming Kyle down into the cushions with unrelenting thrusts.

Kyle's hands went frantic, gripping at anything they could reach to try and stop the jarring movement. He cried out, but Kenny mistook his sudden distress for pleasure.

"K-  _ah, Stop, stop,_ " he managed to choke out through his dry mouth.

Kenny immediately did what Kyle asked of him, leaving him empty. Panting, he wiped at the sweat on his forehead.

"Are you okay?" he heaved in worry. "Did I hurt you?"

Kyle hid the bottom half of his face in the sleeves of Kenny's parka, trying to will himself not to sob.

He wasn't that strong.

"Hey... oh, no. Don't cry, baby," Kenny whispered in the most reassuring tone he could muster. Sadly, though, hearing that endearing word on Kenny's lips only made him cry harder.

Ken remained close, but not too close, as he tried his best to comfort the other.

He didn't even ask what was wrong. He just stayed close, brushing hair out of Kyle's face and wetness off his cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Kyle sobbed, still hiding his face. "I've never done it with anyone but him."

"No, no. Don't be sorry... I get it..."

Kyle wiped at his eyes. Everything felt weird. So weird.

"Can we go to bed?"

Kenny sat up, pulling off the unsullied condom.

"Yeah, if that's what you want."

Kyle nodded, and they found their way to Kenny's bedroom. For most of the night, Kenny couldn't sleep. He kept glancing over at the little lump beside him in bed.

He was okay, and Kyle was going to be okay, too.

Kenny was sure of it.

**…**

Kenny woke the next morning to a voice that was familiar, a little too familiar. He jumped up out of bed with a start, frantically looking around the room for the person the sound belonged to.

Stan.

"... please, pick up. I want to talk."

His heart didn't stop pumping even when he realized it was coming from the speakers of Kyle's cellphone.

It was laying above the pillow they'd been sharing. Kyle was still laying fast asleep under Kenny's covers. He shifted a bit, but settled.

Unsure, Kenny carefully lifted the phone into his hands.

12 messages, 4 missed calls, and one voice mail.

Who they were from made Kenny's heart twist into knots.

He fiddled with the inner workings of Kyle's phone until he figured out how to play the voicemail.

"Hey, Kyle," Stan's voice began from the speakers. "Sorry for all the messages, I just... I'm such a dick. I didn't mean any of the stupid shit I said last night. You know how much I love you, it's just been so... just listen, I don't want to live without you, I can't... please, pick up. I want to talk."

Kenny felt his insides churning, and his gaze fell back onto the petite figure laying beside him in bed. A messy red mop poked out of the edge of his quilt. Early morning sunbeams streamed in through the window and laid down to rest across Kyle. He was sleeping so peacefully, and the thought of Kyle sleeping in any other bed than his was almost enough to make Kenny's lip quiver.

He looked back to the phone.

It was blurting out an automated message that kept repeating over and over.

"To save this message in your inbox, please press one. To delete this message, please press two. To view previous messages, please press three..."

Kenny swallowed hard, then let his gaze again fall onto the lumpy covers beside him.

With a thick gulp, his thumb tapped the screen.

"Voicemail deleted. For further options, please press pound."


End file.
